


I dream of you, to wake

by nowhere_blake



Series: codas for the damned and the brokenhearted [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Benny Finds Out, Blood and Violence, Cheating, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Cooking is Dean Winchester's Love Language, Dean Winchester Cooks, Dean Winchester Loves Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester in Purgatory, Dean and Benny have a tangled mess of a relationship, Episode: s08e10 Torn and Frayed, Established Relationship, Good Cook Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Purgatory, Sibling Incest, and his brother will always choose him, it doesn't matter though because Dean will always choose his brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27535504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhere_blake/pseuds/nowhere_blake
Summary: ‘Well, we better find your angel then, don’t we?’ Benny smirked at him. ‘Get us all topside, so you can introduce me to your boy.’Ending things with Benny makes Dean feel like a black dog had gotten at his guts. The fact that Benny doesn’t even ask why - that he justknowsit has to do with Sam - makes it even worse.Coda to 08x10 Torn and Frayed.
Relationships: Amelia Richardson/Sam Winchester, Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: codas for the damned and the brokenhearted [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883758
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	I dream of you, to wake

**Author's Note:**

> A wee disclaimer about the spelling of Castiel's name in this fic: I know this is a long-debated issue and I'd like to say that I am firmly of the opinion that the pesky extra S has absolutely no business being there and I 100% of the time spell the name Cas, like a normal person. Alas, we all know the writers and Dean himself have a different - one might even say wrong - opinion. Because this ficlet is following Dean, I chose to use the (wildly incorrect) Cass version throughout, just like I always (try and often fail to) Americanise my spelling, for a more authentic tone. I am sincerely sorry if this causes you any upset. May I suggest watching the one and only Misha Collins ramble on about this very topic for 18 fucking minutes straight. [It is honestly the most hilarious thing I have ever seen.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVKuMwg5wMQ&ab_channel=luvjackson1)
> 
> title from Christina Rossetti's poem of the same name:
> 
> I dream of you, to wake: would that I might  
> Dream of you and not wake but slumber on;  
> Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone,  
> As, Summer ended, Summer birds take flight.  
> In happy dreams I hold you full in night.  
> I blush again who waking look so wan;  
> Brighter than sunniest day that ever shone,  
> In happy dreams your smile makes day of night.  
> Thus only in a dream we are at one,  
> Thus only in a dream we give and take  
> The faith that maketh rich who take or give;  
> If thus to sleep is sweeter than to wake,  
> To die were surely sweeter than to live,  
> Though there be nothing new beneath the sun.

Ending things with Benny makes Dean feel like a black dog had gotten at his guts. The fact that Benny doesn’t even ask why - that he just _knows_ it has to do with Sam - makes it even worse.

It’s not like they ever _properly_ discussed Sam, or Dean’s relationship with him, but - evidently - Benny knows more than enough. At first Dean didn’t actually mention Sam in Purgatory at all. The mere idea of Sam being in any way associated with the place turned his stomach. Sam, of course, had his flaws, his mistakes. But despite all of it - the leaving for Stanford, the demon blood - Dean’s little brother was _pure_.

He was pure, like cold sunshine on a winter day, like the stars reflecting off the surface of a lake at night, like the sleek black of the Impala. Sam was pure in his compassion, in his faith, in his laughter. And Dean didn’t want him to have anything to do with Purgatory, was reluctant to even say his name out loud there. It would have felt gut-wrenchingly wrong, because Sam didn’t belong there.

So when one day Benny looked up from cleaning the blood off his boots, and casually said, ‘So who’s Sam then?’ the only logical thing to do was to hold a blade to his neck.

‘How do you know that name?’ Dean spit the words at him, backing Benny up against a tree, all fury on the surface, while ice-cold dread was gripping at his heart.

‘Woah there. No need to get all touchy,’ Benny said, chuckling lightly, but there must have been something manic in Dean’s eyes, something wild and dangerous, because he squirmed uncomfortably and explained. ‘You talk in your sleep, kid.’

Dean felt himself go pale. The few hours of restless sleep he managed every once in a while, propped up against tree trunks, gripping his blade, mostly brought nightmares about finding Cass’ dead body, about Bobby’s ghost going up in flames. Every few days though he’d have a dream about Sam. These were mostly overwhelmingly sexual in nature, but sometimes it wasn't even a dream, rather a sleep-deprivation induced hallucination, just an image, just _Sam_ , the imagined presence of his brother enough to lull Dean to rest. He hated his Sam-dreams viciously, because they might have kept him warm at night, waking up from them, and finding himself in Purgatory, was like getting shot in the chest.

‘Must be a hell of a lady,’ Benny said then, amused, and Dean let go of him with a huff. He looked away and didn’t correct him.

‘Let’s move,’ he barked, once his heart wasn’t beating so frantically. Benny followed him without another word.

To Dean’s immense relief, he never asked him about Sam again. Benny wasn’t the prying type, and he mostly respected the boundaries Dean had laid down between them. They understood each other. They had a deal. And that was the end of it.

Except for how that wasn’t the end of it. Because then they had sex.

Dean’s not exactly sure how it happened; one minute they were beheading Leviathans, the next they were tearing at each other’s clothes. Dean could feel the adrenalin still running through his veins, he felt high, like he’d drank too much on an empty stomach.

He was rutting against Benny, all desperate, he felt like an animal, purely going on instinct. A predator satisfying its needs, no regard to anyone or anything else.

It was good. Obscene and incredible, rough and satiating, dry and glorious - just sheer unadulterated pleasure. Dean felt unclean the minute it was over. They adjusted their clothes in silence, started down a path right after. They had to keep moving to survive.

Dean felt numb. He was losing hope. And if there was one thing he knew, it was that he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn't lose hope, because he needed to get back to his little brother before Sam could do something criminally stupid in order to save Dean.

They found a small creek a little while later, and they hurriedly washed - just enough to feel a little cleaner, but not enough to take the smell of come off of Dean’s fingers.

‘Sam went to college,’ he said when they finally settled down for a few hours of rest. His voice was hoarse, they haven’t talked much during the day. ‘He got a full ride at Stanford, the clever son of a bitch.’

It made him feel better, talking about Sam. It made him feel more human. Like he had something to live for.

Despite avoiding looking at Benny directly, Dean could sense him shifting the moment he realized he’d assumed Sam’s gender wrong earlier. He could feel Benny’s eyes on him, and he continued pretending that picking at the dried blood underneath his fingernails was the most fascinating task in the world.

‘What happened?’ Benny prompted, curiosity clear in his voice, and Dean was grateful he didn’t make a comment about Sam being a man.

They sat quietly for a while, the silence subconsciously making them listen out for any noise that could signal something waiting to jump out at them. You couldn’t ever let your guard down in Purgatory, because the minute you did, you were dead.

‘I went and got him, that’s what happened,’ Dean said eventually, letting his voice turn bitter and self-loathing. ‘Dragged him back into the life, into hunting. _The family business_.’

He let out a little snort, vaguely amused by his own misery. Purgatory did that to you somehow, turned you into the most miserable version of yourself, made you ache with guilt over things you’ve already forgiven yourself for. He wondered if all creatures there felt like that, or if that was just because he was human.

He finally looked up to see Benny already watching him, pale and solemn, like he understood.

‘I need to get back to him,’ Dean told him.

Benny met his eyes, nodded once. They looked away and the tension disappeared. Dean felt like he could breathe again, and he let the rotten, sickly sweet air of Purgatory into his lungs thirstily.

‘Well, we better find your angel then, don’t we?’ Benny smirked at him. ‘Get us all topside, so you can introduce me to your boy.’

It was obviously a joke, and yet Dean couldn’t leave it at that. If they ever got out of there, he had to keep Benny away from Sam.

‘I don’t think so,’ he smiled wryly, all teeth and insistence - serious, where seriousness had no place.

Benny looked taken aback for a moment, but then he just shrugged. ‘Sure thing, buddy. You’re a hunter, I’m a vampire: our kinds don’t exactly mix. As long as you keep your end of the deal, we’re all good.’

Dean nodded and turned away. He told himself he wanted to protect Sam, that he wanted him to know as little about Purgatory as possible. He told himself it wasn’t because of guilt and shame, it wasn’t because he fucked Benny.

He was jolted out of uneasy sleep an hour or so later, by the screeching sound of a monster being murdered by Benny. Dean gripped his blade tighter and relaxed. Fighting, he could do. He was beginning to think he was made for this place, where there was no time for emotions, for complications. You were too busy either killing or being killed. He bared his teeth and slashed at an approaching monster - a slimy little bastard, something’s Dean never seen before, something that probably had no human name. He kicked at the now unsteady creature, aiming well, so it fell right into Benny’s expectant blade.

Benny let the corpse fall between them, and grinned wildly at him, unbothered by the monster’s gooey gray blood that had splashed all over his face. Dean wiped his blade on his jeans and grinned right back.

He can’t remember the exact point Benny found out that Sam was his brother. He thinks it must have been after they’d found Cass. Maybe he said something about needing to get back to his brother, or maybe Cass did. He doesn’t know, and it doesn’t matter now anyway. He only remembers being exhausted, but feeling so wired and alive, worry and relief clashing in his chest.

And suddenly Benny just knew. Although never explicitly said, it was obvious from their previous conversation that Sam was his lover. Dean never denied it. He can still picture the challenge in Benny’s eyes with his feigned-casual, ‘I need to get out of this godforsaken place, and you need to get back to your _little brother_.’

He waited for Dean to contradict him, to get flustered, to try and explain. And maybe before all of this, before Purgatory, Dean would have. Sheepishly looked away, and lied. Made excuses.

He didn’t have that in him in Purgatory. His blood was running wild, he had no use for explanations. He loved Sam with his whole soul, needed him with every atom of his body. He wasn’t going to explain himself to a damn vampire. Purgatory washed away his shame. What did it matter when he couldn’t even be certain if they’d live to see another day?

So Dean just grunted in agreement, busy scraping pieces of monster out of his hair. And Benny just let it be. He never showed any sign of judgement - not then, and not now. He understood him on a base instinct level - he gave Dean, and took from Dean, but nothing more and nothing less. Benny was uncomplicated. Dean got him, came to need him and rely on him, in so many ways. A bond like that, forged in the putrid vastness of Purgatory, was not something easily breakable.

Still, if there is anything Dean prides himself on, is that he’s not a hypocrite. He can’t just tell Sam to make a decision, have both feet in or both feet out, when he himself is in a tangled mess with someone else.

And it’s not like he genuinely thinks Sam’s gonna go back to Amelia. Dean gave him the choice - not that Sam was asking for his permission - and told him he'll support him either way, but Dean’s pretty certain that when it comes to a toss up between him and someone else, Sam will always choose him.

It makes him feel selfish and ugly and unclean. After a few beers there’s an added possessiveness and twisted sense of pride as well. They would choose each other over anyone. He has half a mind to push Sam up against a wall and kiss him stupid, bite at his collarbone, mark him for his own. It wouldn't be the first time they tried to solve their problems with sex, probably wouldn’t be the last.

He’s not sure Sam would appreciate that though. He’s been in a strange mood ever since Dean got back, a little dazed and out of it sometimes, like he didn’t quite know how to _be_ , how to reconcile the different parts of himself, the ones that loved Dean and the ones he left behind with Amelia. Grief seemed to be clinging to him always, grief for a dead brother he was too shattered to look for, grief for a dead brother who was right in front of him.

And it’s not like Dean was in a great place himself. Sam not looking for him? That was a _bitch_. And no matter how many times he forced Sam to try and explain it by making passive aggressive little jabs at him, he didn’t quite get it, wouldn’t for another few years. He’s seen Sam broken before, he’s seen Sam grieving. He’s never seen him give up though. Never on Dean.

It makes Dean’s convictions shake a little, makes him hesitate now and again. Like _now_. He is sure Sam will choose him in the end. He _is_.

So sure, he called Benny and said goodbye, told him this was it, let him down after everything. He did it, because he owed it to Sam. Sam was breaking up with the woman he loved, Dean was… breaking up with Benny.

He opens another beer. Sam still away on his walk. But what if he crossed a line? What if sending him the fake text from Amelia was simply too much, and not something Sam could ever forgive? _Sam’s done worse_ , a terrible, ugly part of Dean thinks. It’s not like he was chugging down demon blood until he was barely human or something, he just sent _a text_.

He shakes himself, takes another swig, lets the alcohol wash through him. No. Sam would always choose him in the end. He would. He _will_.

He’s not quite sure what to do with himself now that he’s finished his phone call. His mind is full of worry about Cass, and doubts about Sam, and... Benny. His mind is full of memories of Benny.

He’s barely allowed himself to define what they were to each other, was careful to never properly label their relationship. Friends. They were friends. But… He shakes himself again, looks around, searching for something to distract himself with, tries his hardest not to think: _Purgatory was easier_.

His legs take him to the kitchen. Food. When Sam comes back, he’ll be hungry. Because he _will_ come back. He will.

Decades of having to take care of his little brother have taught him a little about cooking. He’s got good instincts when it comes to food, and he knows Sam inside and out, knows what he likes. _If you make it, he will come._

It’s already dark when Sam finally returns. He stands in the door sheepishly, bringing the chill of the evening air with him. His face is all defiance though. Like he’s not forgiven Dean, like it’s tearing him apart to stay. But, more importantly, like it would _kill_ him to leave.

Dean’s belly does a somersault, as his brain takes it in. Sam is here. He’s chosen Dean again. It should be enough, but Purgatory left him rough around the edges, relying on animalistic instincts where he shouldn’t. Dean is selfish and he wants more. He wants Sam pliant and apologetic about not looking for him, wants him all little brother-like, wants him worshipful and in awe of Dean’s return.

‘Food needs to be reheated,’ he says dryly instead, even though it’s a gesture, his way of showing his belonging, his gratitude. ‘On the stove.’

Sam nods, doesn’t quite meet his eye. Dean watches him go to the kitchen and wash his hands, then settles back down onto the couch, grateful for the background noise the TV provides. Without the distraction of waiting for Sam’s return though, his anger flares up again. He’s furious at Sam, for making him choose between him and Benny, for not looking for him, for finding happiness without him. But isn’t that what he’s always wanted? Sam out of the life and truly happy? A girl and a dog? He’s been telling himself - and Sam - that for years, hasn’t he?

He looks up as Sam approaches and hands him a bowl, and _god_ , it’s good to see him. It’s obvious now that the Sam that Dean was dreaming about in Purgatory was only a poor imitation of the real thing, conjured up by a desperate, lonely part of Dean’s mind. This Sam is real and beautiful, much more striking, with his dimples and stupid soft hair, and god help Dean, but he loves him so much his heart is aching with it.

Their eyes meet for a moment, and he can tell that Sam knows Dean cooked _for him,_ that this is how he’s trying to say everything will be okay between them, that this is how he says I love you. Taking care of his little brother, like always. He briefly wonders if Amelia was a good cook, viciously hopes she was a goddamn mess in the kitchen.

Sam eventually falls asleep, clearly drained emotionally, but when Dean goes to cover him with a blanket, he reaches out and grabs Dean’s wrist. He can tell Sam’s not quite awake, and yet not exactly asleep.

He hopes when Sam pulls him down on top of him, it’s mostly a deliberate decision, and not just instinct. Dean goes willing. It takes them a minute, but finally they find the well-practised position from years of sleeping together on Bobby’s couch; Sam half-lying on top of Dean, his face tucked into Dean’s neck - an old childhood habit he never grew out of, no matter how much bigger he got - where he’s safe, where he belongs. Dean knows he’s gonna wake up to Sam having drooled on his collarbone, but it’s not like he hasn’t had it worse. He knows that tonight he’ll be free of nightmares for once.

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends, how are we doing after tonight's episode? only one left. wow. if you fancy screaming with me about the show ending on tumblr, come say hi[ @princessconsuelapark ](https://princessconsuelapark.tumblr.com/) 💕
> 
> buy me a [coffee](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/nowhereblake) if you feel like ☕


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